Chained
by angel-with-a-scythe
Summary: AU. The famed prince of Gotham, Bruce Wayne, is given a card referring him to an exclusive high end Gentlemen's Club by a friend. Thinking it would be a nice distraction from his one track life, he takes the bait, but it's a completely different story when he actually gets there, and his life is changed forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Chained - CHAPTER ONE  
 **Word Count:** 3,267 Originally posted on my TUMBLR  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Bruce/Jason, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, OCs  
 **Rating/Warnings:** Explicit. PG-13 for this chapter for now(Adult themes). The rating will go up to Explicit in chapter 2. This is an AU fic.  
 **Notes/Summary:** AU. The famed prince of Gotham, Bruce Wayne, is given a card referring him to a high end Club by a friend. Thinking it would be a nice change in pace for his one track life, he takes the bait, but it's a whole other story when he actually gets there…

—

The darkness of the limo did nothing to keep his attention from the card between his fingertips. Though he couldn't see it, it was still pressing against his hands, burning itself into his mind. It was like a heavy weight he couldn't drop and the thick, smooth paper glinted with what little light it caught from the moon filtered by black tinted windows. It was deathly quiet. The engine was off, his butler never asking questions, and the billionaire sat paralyzed in thought. His eyes were fixed straight ahead at nothingness as he slowly twirled the card in his fingers by the sharp corners, then finally taking in a deep breath that shattered the silence in the vehicle. Leather squeaked underneath his weight as he shifted and leaned forward, arms on his knees, the card flat between two fingers, and he addressed the driver:

"I'll call."

They were simple orders but they held a resolve of steel. He pushed the heavy door of the limo open on his own, a rush of crisp hair hitting his entire body with a chill that sent a small shiver down his spine.

It was time to get away from it all. It was time to let go, relax, and clear his mind.

The huge building loomed over him, beckoning him forward, yet he did not move even as the sound of the car driving away slowly faded into the distance. He lifted the card in his hand, eyes flicking down to meet it as it glared back at him. This could be what he'd been searching for.

The click of his expensive shoes against the pavement was the only thing that told him he was already walking. It was like his body was numb, possessed even, pushing forward without a conscious demand to do so. His fingers slid around the cold metal of the handle to the glass doors, a single receptionist in the brightly lit lobby staring back at him when he entered. She flashed him a perfect customer service smile as he padded across the lavish rug in the center of the marble floors. It was such a brilliant design, this lobby, with its expensive arm chairs, low hanging crystal chandelier, and delicately framed paintings. Very comfortable, very warm. He already felt welcome.

"Bruce Wayne."

The fact that she knew his name didn't surprise him. Everyone in the city knew who he was, but it didn't make him feel any less like a stranger within these walls.

"We've been expecting you," she said kindly as he slid the card over the perfectly sculpted counter. She checked it, but she already knew it was real, and her fingers worked quickly to type in the number printed on the glossy paper. She handed it back to him, but not without an additional card as well. This one was plastic, a single black stripe down the length, but otherwise completely blank. She flicked her gaze to the elevator, then back to him. "Please enjoy your stay."

His gaze lingered on her just a moment longer, searching for more instruction, but again his feet had already started on their own, pulling him towards the reflective, silver elevator doors. He pressed the button and waited.

It seemed like an eternity before the doors finally opened quietly, revealing… a simple empty space. He hadn't known what he was expecting or why it surprised him that it was just an elevator, but he pursed his lips and stepped inside, the doors closing behind him. He turned around, looking at the floor numbers, not knowing which to push.

Until he saw the card reader, that is.

He pulled the blank card up and swiped it, a gentle 'ding' sounding, and the force of gravity pulling at his body to let him know he was going up. He didn't know what floor he was going to, but he was guessing it wasn't on the list of buttons in front of him and he'd just take a stab in the dark and say it was the top floor of the 50 story building. He clasped his hands in front of him, both cards still secure within his grasp until the familiar 'ding' rang again and the doors behind him opened. For a moment he was confused, turning away from the doors he'd used to get into the elevator to step out of the ones opening at his back.

"Ah, Mr. Wayne! I trust you had no troubles finding the place?" A suited, heavy set man stepped forward to greet him, though did not extend his hand, a humble form of respect that indicated their gap in status.

"None at all," he assured, eyes taking in the lavish, dimly lit hallway. He was escorted to a set of double doors and the portly man opened it for him, gesturing inside and Bruce did not hesitate. He couldn't deny that he was feeling a bit of an adrenaline rush now, still holding firmly to the cards within his hand, as if they were some sort of lifeline to keep him grounded while his mind was clouded by his uncertainties.

A suave man, nearly as tall as Bruce, appeared through another set of ornate double doors dressed in a fine, flawlessly tailored pinstriped black suit, looking rather excited to see him. In an instant, Bruce was able to spot the designer watch with inset diamonds, silk interior lining of his suit jacket, diamond wrist cuffs, and black snakeskin shoes.

"You must be Devons," Bruce observed.

"Please, call me James." A charming smile. "I never thought I would have the honor to say that the Bruce Wayne was a client of mine. I'm pleased you've chosen to do business with us."

"The recommendation from Mannings was very persuasive."

"He is one of our most valued clients, Mr. Wayne. I am sure you will find something to your liking here." They began to move into the next room, a lounge or sorts that one might expect to find in a five star hotel or an ultra lounge. The huge room was lit by soft candles on the tables and wall lamps shining soft, golden rays towards the ceiling, but the small amount of light was not enough to conceal the plush couches and tables, each divided into very private sections. Some contained patrons drinking and laughing, and others were empty. Music filled the air, a club beat of some sort that set the mood for a party, but was quiet enough to have conversation and intimacy. The farthest corner of the room had glass walls overlooking the glimmering lights of Gotham City. His eyes delayed there for a brief moment, fixated on the twinkling of his city. It was mesmerizing, really, and the room itself was gorgeous, he had to admit. His friend had not been exaggerating in his stories.

"This is our Liquid Lounge. Most clients prefer to spend their time here, enjoying a full selection of drinks from our bar and our widely stocked kitchen and service area for any… cravings you may have." Devons flashed him a sly look, a confident smile on his face as Bruce snapped his attention back to the owner. "All you have to do is notify your caretaker. Of course, there are other rooms if you wish to have complete privacy, but I assure you everyone here is under contract. Now," He said, turning to him abruptly, staring deep into Bruce's icy gaze. "Any questions? If not, we have taken the liberty of selecting our finest product for you to choose from and I can have them brought in as soon as you are ready."

Bruce was a little overwhelmed to say the least, but he was sure he would get the hang of everything with time. From what he remembered from his friend's recommendation, he would be given a 'sample' of the product before entering into any legally binding contracts with the company. Was the trial period a few hours? The entire night? He couldn't remember him specifying, but he was ready to put the reference from Mannings to the test.

"Bring them in," Bruce said, slipping one hand into his pocket and fingering the plastic card anxiously as he waited. Devons snapped his fingers and a door next to the bar opened, a line of women escorted out to stand in front of the owner. They were all dressed in costly fabrics, their bodies covered, but nothing left to the imagination. Their curves were accentuated with every dress a different design, and each girl had on a different color that brought out their eyes or their subtle blush. All of them were stunning.

Devons began to take him down the line of women, but looked at Bruce as he spoke. "These are some of our top selling hosts, not a single person has been dissatisfied with them. From a simple conversation to your most intimate desires, any of them can make each night as unforgettable as the last." He glanced at a blonde woman that held Bruce's gaze for a long moment and grinned knowingly.

She smiled seductively at Bruce, a hand on her hip as she extended a gloved hand to him. He took it into his, kissing her knuckles softly.

A jolting, sharp movement behind the woman caught his attention. His eyes focused into the distance on a boy who had plopped himself roughly down onto a table top, a leg on either side of a rich looking man who sat in the plush cushions looking up at him. His suit was disheveled and messy, unbuttoned, with his shirt untucked and tie loosened. It seemed so out of place here, yet somehow so fitting and exotic for the cocky and confident aura of his nature. A devilish smirk transformed his face as he leaned over to whisper something into his ear, black and white bangs sweeping the sides of his temples as he tilted his head to breathe down his client's neck. Even as the owner continued to talk, Bruce could not hear him, eyes stuck in a trance, glued to the man on the table.

As if he felt him watching, dark blue eyes locked with his and the boy froze momentarily until his smirk widened and he slid with an unexpected grace into the lap he'd been straddling, angling his face to lick at the ear next to his snide smile. Bruce's pulse quickened. He could feel it against the soft fabric of his suit, in his fingertips against the plastic card that he hadn't realized he was gripping so hard. All the while, those eyes never left him, half-lidded with a mischievous haze, even as he pushed the suit from the man's shoulders and rocked his hips, arching his body into the other.

"Mr. Wayne…" Bruce jolted away from the scene, returning his attention to the owner who followed his previous line of sight. "Perhaps you'd like our selection of males? I apologize. We were," he searched for the words, "unaware of your other preference."

Bruce tensed his jaw, clearing his mind and regaining his careful composure, turning to face James Devons with narrowed eyes.

"That won't be necessary."

A moment of panic seemed to flicker over the owner's face, but he covered it immediately and clasped his hands together against his lips. "Mr. Wayne, please… I'm sure there is something we can—"

"Who is he?" He asked, cutting him off. James swallowed, hesitating as if he was trying to contain the information. He didn't look pleased, and that only piqued Bruce's interest more. The owner waved the women off with a hasty gesture, turning to look at the product in question and hardening his gaze.

"His name is Jason." He hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then continued. "He is our top selling host here by quite an extraordinary margin. However," his tone turned dark and foreboding. "I have to be very forward with you in letting you know he also has the highest return rate."

Bruce wet his lips. "What does that mean?"

"It means he has," he paused again, this time to choose his words carefully. "…obedience issues."

Bruce let his eyes wander back to Jason, tumbling his name through his mind over and over again to commit it to memory. This "Jason" had obedience issues, did he? That was something he hadn't expected to hear from a club of such high standards, considering it was invite only and the prices were staggering.

"And the satisfaction rate?" Bruce inquired, before he realized the words were leaving his mouth. He couldn't tear his gaze from him. There was something so captivating and alluring about him that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He had never felt so drawn to something—or someone—without even speaking to them first. He'd seen more beautiful women and men in the world than he could care to count, in fact he'd seen many of them in this very room just moments ago, and yet this boy aroused his senses with nothing more than simple eye contact.

"All feedback was astronomical from all clients."

"…Until the 'disobedience.'" It was hardly a question. He wasn't stupid, but he couldn't imagine a bit of defiance being enough for a return in most cases.

"Yes, sir. We do have many more satisfactory products, Mr. Wayne. I assure you that none of the other hosts you've seen have been returned."

"No."

His curt reply silenced James for a moment and his expression turned bitter, almost disgusted as he looked at Jason. Bruce, however, was blissfully unaware, his gaze still locked on his goal.

"Very well, then. I will have him brought to you so that you may make the final decision. His current session, however, is scheduled for the entire evening; You will not be able to use your trial with him tonight."

This was not what Bruce wanted to hear, but he couldn't be surprised with Jason being their number one seller. He pursed his lips unhappily and set his jaw. He felt so… anxious. He couldn't quite understand his impatience, and it floored him as well.

"Until then, please enjoy a drink at the bar as you wait."

The next ten minutes of his life were the longest he'd ever experienced. Waiting proved to be painful, and the more he looked at his watch, the more restless he became, especially when he saw Jason bid his client farewell and departed down the landing steps to exit into a "staff only" door. That's when his pulse skyrocketed. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden? It wasn't as if he'd signed his soul away to the devil, but for once he felt truly excited for something, and yet he was also wary of the fact he may be let down. His standards were impossibly high, top rated host or not. Most of the time, Bruce was forced to pretend like he cared and faked a charming smile to put on a show. Something about the mysteriousness behind Jason's return rate intrigued him because, he wasn't stupid, he knew there had to be something more here than what was being said. Not to mention, why would Jason not be discharged if he was causing so many problems?

The cold liquid of his drink hit his tongue, refreshing him, and the burn of the alcohol that soon followed set fire to the back of his throat and esophagus as it went down. The warm sensation in his stomach calmed his nerves and eased his muscles.

That's when Jason appeared from the doorway with James Devons, looking nicely pressed. It didn't suit him like the mussed look earlier had. Bruce stood, leaving the rest of his drink on the bar counter and straightened. All the tension from earlier seemed to melt away as he assumed his confident demeanor, even as Jason walked towards him like a predator stalking its prey. It was as if he was watching a sleek panther with a gaze that could kill on sight… but no one could intimidate Bruce Wayne.

Before Devons could even speak, Jason was taking control of the reins. "Well, if it isn't Bruce Wayne," he said, though the inflections of his voice made it clear that Jason was unimpressed and sarcastic. "I'm so honored. You know… You look a lot older in person."

"Jason," the owner warned. "I apologize, Mr. Wayne."

"No need," Bruce assured, a small smile pulling at his lips as his eyes landed directly on the host. "I see through his transparent intimidation tactics." He didn't miss the flicker of anger in Jason's eyes, though the boy continued to smirk up at him confidently.

Jason was indeed a feisty one. Bruce was already beginning to understand the issues some may have with him, particularly when insults were thrown the first meeting, but he also understood how the enticing flame behind those eyes made it so easy to stick around. It was absolutely exhilarating. This boy was like a puzzle to figure out, a jumbled story that didn't make sense unless someone looked beyond the words to see a bigger meaning. He just had no idea what that bigger picture could be.

Jason stepped closer to him, looking him up and down, as if he was tearing him apart with each glance. Bruce had never felt so vulnerable, and that just made him more uncomfortable with the realization that this boy could already achieve this. Why was he so nervous? Never in his life had he asked himself that questions so many times in one evening. The host looked up at him through thick lashes, a smug smirk on his face. He reached up and slung his arms around Bruce's neck, tangling his fingers in the soft hair at the back of Bruce's head. Their eyes locked, and Bruce could feel his heart pounding in his chest, struggling to keep his face neutral and retain the power. Jason's intoxicating smell wafted through his senses, his body positively melting into the other. Their close proximity only allowed Bruce to appreciate his true beauty more. Fiery and wild, Bruce could already tell that Jason was not a beast that could easily be tamed. So why did he work here? At such a degrading host club?

He leaned in close, whispering into his ear.

"So why me, Mr. Wayne?" He didn't miss the snide tone attached to his name. Bruce said nothing, staying impossibly still, even as his hands ached to touch the body still pressed against his own. He forced himself to keep his breathing steady, and when the billionaire still said nothing, Jason pulled away just enough to look at his expression… or lack thereof. Bruce stared at him with impossible control, looking entirely unamused. Jason pushed his hips into Bruce's and leaned into him, an explosion of electricity crackling through his nerves at the friction, until their lips were nearly touching and Bruce could feel the heat and moisture of his breath.

"Kind of boring aren't you?"

"Jason," his owner warned again. "Please remember the etiquette and terms of your service here."

There was something behind those words that caught Bruce's attention. It sounded like a threat, and Bruce tucked that into the back of his mind for later mulling. The host in question turned, released Bruce, and glared at his owner in one fluid motion, his lips pressed into a thin line, as if he was biting his tongue. The former warmth of the boy against him was suddenly a cold void and he wanted nothing more than to pull him back into his needy body.

"Well, boss. I'm going to have to decline this one," Jason said, looking over his shoulder to sneer at Bruce. "Not interested."

Bruce was absolutely shocked. For a moment, neither of them could speak as Jason sauntered off with a dismissive wave to get back to his client, pulling the door open to the host's quarters from which he came to finish his break in peace.

James quickly turned to Bruce in a panic.

"My sincerest apologies, sir."

"I see now why he's been returned so much."

James was terrified. Leave it to Jason to completely ruin his chances at having Gotham's richest man on his list of clients. He didn't even want to speak, not knowing what could set Bruce off. Everything he had worked so hard for felt as if it was crashing around him. His anger with Jason was steadily climbing and reaching levels bordering rage. He hadn't even known he could be more angry with the boy, but this was the final straw.

"I'll take him."

"What?" The owner asked in disbelief, eyes impossibly wide. His body felt like his blood had been replaced with cement, impossibly heavy and unable to move even an inch in any direction as he gaped at Bruce.

"You heard me."

Now it was James Devons' turn to be shocked.

 **Author's Notes:** Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. I enjoy this story a lot, and I'm glad I'm reposting these stories from my tumblr, because it's reigniting all my passions for my stories. I have two chapters already written for this, and will be posting chapter 2 in just a few days. Love me some BruJay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Chained - CHAPTER TWO  
 **Word Count:** 5,827  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Bruce/Jason, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth, OC's  
 **Rating/Warnings:** NC-17 for adult content, themes, and situations. AU. Long Chapter  
 **Notes/Summary:** The famed Prince of Gotham, Bruce Wayne, is given a card referring him to a high end Club that is promised to satisfy even his most intimate desires…

* * *

It was amazing what a dark squiggly line that vaguely resembled your name could do. It could legally bind an individual, it could be worth a heap of money, or it could even sell your soul to the devil. Which was it in this case? Probably the latter of the three masquerading as the first.

The darkness of the ink was an intense contrast to the blinding white of the paper underneath his hand. He stared at it for a long moment, until he felt like the lines were dancing on their own, forcing himself to blink out of his stupor and lean back, setting the pen down.

This was a lot of money.

This was a lot of promise.

Why was he paying for something he already knew was going to be a challenge when he'd come here to relax and take his mind off of everything? Wasn't that the whole point? To _not_ work? Although, when had Bruce Wayne ever really taken an actual break from anything?

And he had to admit he thoroughly enjoyed a challenge.

On the other hand, Jason didn't seem to like him at all. Any glimpse of affection or attraction he'd seen from Jason was because his job called for it. He was very skilled in manipulation and bodily communication—that much was obvious—and he was probably even better at lying. Bruce had no idea what to think about it, not to mention his own confusing actions. Regardless, it was entertainment for the time being: a fresh new puzzle to solve. Work away from work, perhaps, but still a change in scene. He needed this. He needed a heartbeat in the otherwise robotic vessel that Bruce Wayne had slowly become over the years.

"I trust you have no more questions, Mr. Wayne?"

The voice splintered through his thoughts, drawing his attention back to the owner, James Devons. He flashed him an unauthentic, kind smile as he handed the pen back to him. No, he had no real questions. He had read every single word of the contract backwards and forwards, searching for loopholes or vagueness that could be dire to him. Not surprisingly, the contract was incredibly fair and straight forward. Jason would be his for any allotted amount of time as long as it was paid for, and scheduled in advance. There were different levels of service, from simple conversation to the most intimate desires a man could think of, each with their own staggering prices. Bruce, Jason, and all clients here were sworn to privacy under penalty of law regarding anyone else's business but their own. He understood this, knowing first hand just how it felt to have the world to stare at you, waiting for you to slip up—even a little—just so they could tarnish your good name. Not many dared to smear the name "Wayne" in this city, but better safe than sorry.

It was more about his parents than himself. Let them slander him all they wanted, but when it came to his mother and father… that was something he could not tolerate.

"No questions," he confirmed. James smiled at him brilliantly, gently clapping Bruce on the shoulder and shaking his hand as he showed him towards the exit.

"Wonderful, Mr. Wayne! It is an honor to have you here. We are looking forward to seeing you tomorrow evening for your first session. Please don't hesitate to call if you _do_ think of any questions or concerns and we will take care of everything." Bruce nodded at him and proceeded through the open doors from where he had first entered, poised and confident as he strode down the carpeted hallway.

James watched the retreating back of the Prince of Gotham as he walked towards the elevators. It was like watching some powerful tiger stalk through his corridor: intimidating, frightening, and beautiful all at the same time. Untold power curled and coiled beneath every muscle and glance. He'd never seen anything quite like it in all his years on this earth. He observed him a moment longer as the tall man pulled a sleek mobile phone from his pocket to call someone before the doors closed him in and blocked his vision from him.

His smile slowly faded as all his tension eased from his body as soon as he was sure the doors would not open again. He reached up, rubbing his own neck with careful fingers, closing his eyes against the headache that was starting to form in his frontal lobe. This evening had been far more stressful than he anticipated. When Mannings had called him and delivered the message that Bruce Wayne would be dropping by, he had nearly lost his wits and almost remodeled the entire Liquid Lounge in his hysteria. His assistant had to calm him and ply him with drinks to make him realize he had hired one of the most famous interior designers in the entire country when he had first modeled the space, assuring him that he had nothing to worry about.

Now that he'd formally met Bruce Wayne, he had to admit that his worries were tripled. He had read tabloids and heard from Mannings that Bruce Wayne was hard to please, but as soon as he'd seen his face he knew those rumors were grossly underestimating the billionaire.

But he'd done it. He'd obtained his interest with an unlikely twist of fate. Who'd have thought a washed up pound pup like Jason Todd would catch Bruce Wayne by the tongue? Well, Jason wasn't his top seller for nothing. There was simply something about the young host that thrilled everyone, including himself at first. He was disillusioned rather quickly, and saw the profit that could be made with the boy, but he had severely miscalculated the demand for him… and the lack of control he'd have over him.

Jason: his blessing and his curse.

"I don't know what you did, Jason, but you've managed to snag the Prince," he said, his eyes lingering on the elevator door still. At last, he turned to meet Jason's gaze as the boy leaned against a wall in the dark, arms crossed and emotions guarded. Though Jason was quite good at sneaking up on others, James had grown very accustomed to feeling his presence. It wasn't hard considering the aura that was so uniquely his. The owner smiled slowly, folding his fingers together underneath his chin as he slowly advanced on his employee. "That was quite an interesting little performance you put on today…" His tone was knowing, but Jason didn't even budge, no movement to betray any inkling of feeling he may be experiencing underneath the coldness of a deep blue stare.

He'd never seen Jason act like this with any of his clients upon their first meeting. He wasn't exactly the nicest to any of them, but for the sake of making money, he had always kept his insults to a minor infraction of protocol. Not to mention the little show he'd put on while he was with his other client… very peculiar. Jason was by no means subtle when he wanted to cause trouble or get attention, but he couldn't say he'd seen the boy get so much enjoyment out of it until now.

He took a deep breath, lowering his entwined fingers to hang in front of him. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he knew one thing for certain: "If you mess this up, Jason, I'll make sure you regret it for the rest of your life."

Jason seemed to take the threat well, simply smirking at him, much to his boss's frustration. Jason was very good at making him doubt what he thought he knew. For instance, he was fairly certain that there was something about Bruce that stirred Jason, but his rational mind could think of no reason why based on their previous exchange that evening… And yet, Jason hadn't acted that way with any of his other clients either. He was unsure if it was legitimate dislike… or something else entirely.

However, Jason was unpredictable, and his reasons for his actions were always unclear until it was too late. James would have to keep a close eye on this one. He snatched up the contract from the desk, keeping his eyes on Jason as if to demonstrate a point. He didn't miss the flash of emotion behind blue eyes, even if he couldn't discern it quite yet.

"You don't want me to mess it up, yet you're the one lying to him already."

Jason's cunning remark gave him pause, his glance shifting from the boy to the contract in his hands momentarily, but he hardly faltered, shooting him a callous look. It was true… he had lied to Bruce and told him Jason was booked for the entire night when he wasn't, but it had proved to be incredibly beneficial, hadn't it?

"I was simply hoping he'd change his mind."

"Why would you want to deter your richest client from buying your most expensive product?" Jason countered, pushing off the wall to draw closer to him.

It was James's turn to lean back casually, resting himself on the desk, catching the single beam of light that filtered down from the ceiling as he smiled maliciously.

"Well, why would that matter to you when you said you weren't interested in him?"

A long moment of silence passed between them.

James knew he'd won this battle, but Jason being much smarter than he had anticipated was beginning to cause problems for him in this business. Such a conundrum, this Jason Todd.

"Perhaps you should go home and rest. Your evening tomorrow is going to be a long one." He waved the contract in Jason's face, carefully dodging his attempt to snatch the paper from his grip as he disappeared into the back room.

Labored breathing filled the air as Bruce pushed his hips up into the body straddling his hips. Nails clawed at his chest, down his stomach and steely fingers gripped his arm so hard he was sure there would be bruises. He grunted softly as he drove himself into his lover over and over, pulling at milky thighs as he arched back. Waves of ecstasy rolled over him, their sweat sliding them against each other in a heated friction that was driving him insane. He felt like he was in a fog. He couldn't remember who he was with, or how they'd gotten here. All he knew was that he was pulsing with need and so close to climax that he thought he might explode. He couldn't get enough. It was like he was drugged, every connection between their bodies sparking unimaginable pleasure. He lifted himself to sit up, never missing a beat as he wrapped his arms around a strong waist and kissed at the neck that bared itself to him.

The taste was salty, the smell invigorating, and the voice was deep and husky, tickling his eardrums with moans and satisfied whispers. His own fingers scraped down perfectly smooth sides, pulling the body down into his bucking hips. God, he was so close now. Trying to open his heavy eyelids to look up at the object of his desire, he felt like he had to use all of his strength, clenching his teeth as he growled low in his throat.

A familiar head of black and white hair. A cocky smirk…

He awoke with a start, disoriented, and tried desperately to blink away his shock and discomfort. He reached up to rub his face, pulling himself into a sitting position to swing his legs over the side of his bed and hunch over in exhaustion. This whole thing had already plagued him enough, so why did it have to haunt him in his sleep as well? Was he really such a school boy, waking from vivid sexual dreams about his current obsession? He'd hardly even met Jason, but it was like they had crossed paths before… It was as if he already knew the contours of the body like one might know a map. His imagination never failed to amaze him sometimes. Sighing, he slowly cracked his eyelids to peer at the sheets in his lap.

It was going to be a long day.

"Oh, you're already awake, Master Bruce." Alfred didn't bother hiding the surprise in his voice. It was unlike Bruce to be awake when his butler came to wake him, and he was all too aware of that right now, especially when he pulled the curtains back to reveal the bleakest of grey skies. He sighed again, shooting Alfred a discontented look that was promptly ignored.

"I will bring your coffee immediately, sir."

"No," he said softly, rubbing his temples. "I'll have it in the living room."

"With your morning paper, sir?"

"Yes."

Alfred dismissed himself and Bruce fell back onto his pillow, sinking back into his mattress as he stared at the ceiling. He couldn't stop the yawn from breaking free, using the opportunity to stretch as wide and as long as he could before finally pulling himself completely out of bed. He shuffled over to his closet pulling his robe and slippers from their perfectly arranged spots, trying to decipher what was on his schedule for the day through his morning haze. Wiggling his toes inside of his slippers, he looked thoughtfully at the long rows of suits and shoes, but he couldn't for the life of him think of his schedule. His mind kept fast forwarding straight to this evening event with his new host.

He really had been bored before this opportunity dropped itself into his lap, hadn't he? For something to grab his attention so fully, so completely… he couldn't remember the last time it had happened.

It was pathetic, actually. What the hell was wrong with him? Alfred hadn't seemed to notice, so he must have been doing an incredible job at hiding his uncertainties. He just didn't feel like himself. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake… Jason had made it very clear that he hadn't the slightest interest in him. Why on Earth would anyone in their right mind want to keep company with someone who obviously didn't like them?

The delicious smell of coffee invaded his senses and his stomach growled in response. His bodily needs were trumping his mental turmoil, dragging him down to the living room. His eyes immediately sought out the tray that he knew would be waiting. A steaming cup of coffee was accompanied by fresh eggs and toast. It was a light and plain breakfast, but Bruce was very thankful and preferred it. The paper was folded perfectly on the cushion of his favorite chair.

"Would you like to go over your schedule, Master Bruce?"

Bruce plucked the paper from his seat, plopping down into his chair and setting the reading material on his lap as he went straight for the coffee, pulling the hot liquid to his lips.

"Mm," he mumbled in affirmation.

"You have a fitting at noon, a board meeting at 2pm, an early dinner appointment…" Alfred continued listing his day methodically and with purpose. It was just another day to them both… save the last event of the night.

He suddenly looked up, furrowing his brow. "What time is it?"

A fond smile pulled at his butler's lips. "It is 10:16, sir."

That didn't leave him much time to putt around. He nodded and took a longer drink of his coffee, leaning back to let the cushions of his plush chair surround him and suck him into a comfortable embrace.

Yes, today was going to be a very long day.

To say that time was crawling by was just a gross understatement. It didn't help that it felt like every pair of eyes in the city were on him, as if they knew he was buying the company of prostitutes in his spare time. Alright, that was a harsh way of looking at the Gentlemen's Club, but that was essentially what it was. He figured the only difference between a common street whore and the product he was buying was that these people were _willing_ and enjoyed what they did, completely free to leave if they chose to… at least, that's what he was telling himself. So what did separate him from the desperate pleasure-givers on the streets?

Nothing.

He was taking advantage of people just like they were. The thought sickened him; nevertheless he understood exactly why it happened. An individual would pay any price for a moment of happiness. It was the hardest thing to come by in Gotham, these days. He invested so much money into ridding his city of things like prostitution, crime, and homelessness… and yet he was engaging in the very activities he strove to eliminate. The tabloids would have a field day with it all if they knew.

So much was at risk… but he felt more alive now than he had in years with each step closer and closer to the double doors that would lead him to that silver elevator. Every second felt like a minute, every minute felt like an hour.

…Until finally, he was in the Liquid Lounge again. It was exceptionally busy tonight. The huge room was packed with clients and their hosts in all of the sections, some large parties, some small, all bustling with laughter and heated desire. James greeted him personally of course, grinning and making friendly small talk as he showed him towards a very plush and private area fortified by high, crimson curtain walls. It was illuminated by soft lights shooting up from behind two luxurious dark red couches that came together to form the corner of the room. In front of the couches was a low black coffee table with red accents, the delicate painted wood reaching up to cradle a thick sheet of glass. The middle was embellished with an artistic centerpiece spilling long, sweeping feathers that encircled a tall black and red candle at its core. It was all incredibly elegant, yet sleek in a way that stirred his emotions and moved his eyes. It had the thrill of a nightclub, but all the comfort of a lounge.

"Please relax and enjoy yourself in your room while I send for your host, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce gave him an acknowledging nod, and watched him leave towards the employee door next to the bar. He didn't miss the scattered pairs of eyes around the room from hosts and clients alike that recognized him before he stepped up the three stairs into his private elevated lounge area. Out of habit, his eyes searched for anything suspicious, but just as he thought, there was not a single thing out of place. He really didn't enjoy waiting. Why did he feel so stifled in his own skin?

One thing was certain, however: He was incredibly confident that he was looking his absolute best. He'd chosen a costly, sleek fabric at the fitting that was black, but had a subtle pattern created by the tightly woven threads to create the matching slacks and coat. Beneath it, a perfectly pressed white collared shirt with a deep blue tie hugging his chest as it dipped below the buttoned suit jacket. It was comfortable and light weight. Not a hair was out of place.

He turned to the couches and table to seat himself, cushions firm but incredibly comfortable, then leaned back to test the support and comfort. He let his eyes wander to the thick drapes at the back of the couches, taking in the harsh black shadow columns created by the folds that seemed almost sculpted, like every large roll was scrupulously placed. It was amazing how much they muffled the sounds of the other clients hidden just behind them, yet still encased the music and unique lighting of the room. This wasn't so bad… why had he been so anxious all day?

Abruptly, there was movement in front of him, snapping his attention forward, and he was met with the intense gaze of Jason Todd. It suddenly seemed like the environment around him started to blur, his senses tuning out everything but the man that stood in front of him. A familiar smirk twisted Jason's features as he leaned forward, tucking pale hands into the pockets of his black pants. Bruce caught a glimpse of a crimson vest tucked away under the flawlessly tailored curves of his jacket and the richly colored material sat upon a black shirt that was unbuttoned halfway, mimicking the sharp V of the vest and exposing a teasing amount of flesh.

He was breath-taking.

Bruce, however, remained in control of his composure, fixing the cocky boy with an expectant stare. It was only when Jason closed the distance between them to stand beside him that he suddenly felt the acceleration of his pulse beneath his own skin.

"Good evening, Mr. Wayne." He hardly masked the noxious arrogance in his voice as he stood looking down at him.

"Jason," he countered smoothly, never faltering. It only seemed to amuse the boy further. He gracefully snaked onto the couch opposite of Bruce, never breaking eye contact.

"You're a pretty fucked up guy, you know that?" The remark came without warning. He wouldn't lie and say he hadn't been caught off-guard, but he kept his face stoic, saying nothing. Jason tilted his head, draping one arm on the back of the couch, and the other over his knee as he crossed his legs, still drilling his gaze into Bruce. "I don't think I've ever met anyone so masochistic as to enjoy being insulted to their face. Yet, here you are: Patiently waiting for me like a whipped and trained animal."

The spiteful words were meticulously enunciated; each designed to stab at him like a deadly, hand-crafted blade. He couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as he let Jason casually continue on.

"Each one of you is exactly the same, Brucie. You don't mind if I call you ' _Brucie_ ,' right? You wave your money around and squander it on whores and drugs while your fellow aristocrats watch, and at the end of the day, you sleep soundly without knowing what the word 'struggle' truly means." This speech was rather clever, designed to get under the skin and infuriate. He had to admit, the kid had no qualms showing him just how much he disliked him.

"Are you calling yourself a common whore?" He quipped, joining in the game. Something flashed behind Jason's eyes for a moment, but his expression remained confident, alluring.

"Isn't that what I am, to you? A conquest… a _distraction_?"

He knew he had hit the bull's-eye. "Ah, that's it, isn't it? You need something different for your boring, pathetically mundane, privileged life." Jason sat back with a grin, allowing Bruce to finally breathe.

He didn't know why Jason hated him with such fervor, but he couldn't deny that everything Jason said was completely true. Why try to deny it? In a place where one went to escape, having reality forced back upon you in such a vulgar style was enough to make anyone livid. It was painfully obvious now, why Jason had the highest return rate. Unlucky for Bruce, it seemed as if Jason had skipped the fun stuff and went straight to the return policy. He wasn't sure why, but if he gave up now he'd never find out. He was going to keep his cool in order to do that, but first he needed to get used to the host's unbelievably powerful stare. He forced himself to look away first.

Behind Jason was a shelf, laden with an assortment of wines and glasses glinting in the muted light of the room… That could be the perfect place to start. A little liquid courage would do them both some good and allow them to loosen up around each other. Bruce had spent years guarding himself from the world, so it was relatively easy to discern that Jason was guarding himself from something as well. What that could be, he had no idea, but he wanted to do anything he could to get to know the mysterious youth. Turning up some casual charm, he returned his attention to his host and folded his hands together as he leaned towards him.

"How about some wine?"

Jason puckered his lips slightly as he stared at Bruce, narrowing his eyes in amusement, as if dissecting his simple words to see if there was something beneath them. He leaned back into the couch cushions, his expression melting into the wicked smirk that Bruce was becoming all too familiar with.

"Sure. I'll take red."

The billionaire blinked dumbly. Jason was going to make this as hard as possible, wasn't he? It was as if their roles had been reversed. Jason was expecting to be served while Bruce was to wait on _him_? He flashed him a forced smile, moving away from the couches and, without hesitation, pulled two glasses from where they hung and set them on the low shelf. He would play this game for now.

As Bruce inspected the wines, Jason was able to take a moment to examine his client's broad backside. His posture was perfect, his movements refined, and he had to admit… Bruce Wayne had a very nice ass. He pursed his lips, carefully observing the man's choice in a white wine as opposed to the red. He was particular, deliberate, and calculating, something that didn't come as much of a surprise to Jason. Rich people were a dime a dozen. However, the fact that he was serving him instead of the other way around was a first. Most all the clients he'd ever had would never stand for it since the price on his head was horrendous here. Then again, he had never been able to simply be himself at work like this. His contract was very strict, and he was to serve each client to their complete satisfaction or else risk a zero on his paycheck. But, when he wanted to drive someone away, being himself was usually the quickest way to do it…

Bruce turned, one glass in each hand, and came back to the table, setting the red glass in front of Jason, and taking his place back on the couch. He was fairly certain this awkwardness was not how any of these sessions were supposed to feel, but he could be extremely patient when he wanted to be. He sipped his wine, very aware of his companion's eyes fixed directly on him.

"Usually, I can't get clients to shut up," Jason said, breaking the silence as he drank deeply from his glass. "I see that won't be a problem with you." Bruce hid his smile behind his glass as he took a sip as well, letting the exquisite substance sit on his tongue for a while as Jason continued. "I can't complain about that. Makes my job incredibly easy. It's like you're paying thousands of dollars just to give me a break," he snickered. "Really, I can't thank you enough." Of course, there was no real gratitude in that statement, only sarcasm. Sure, he could fake small talk if he wanted to, just like he did at every gala event or fundraiser… but he'd come here to be himself, so he would do nothing more than that. Besides, he was rather enjoying the way Jason's voice sounded sultry and deep without him even trying.

"Although, I have to admit it's kind of creepy," the younger boy sustained, downing the rest of his glass. "No wonder you can't get any in your normal life. You just sit there, staring at people, trying to pick them apart like they're some sort of puzzle." He chuckled, reaching up to push some white hair from his face. It was incredible how spot on Jason was, and it must have showed because Jason laughed at him as he pulled his jacket off, tossing it onto the couch cushions carelessly. He proceeded to roll up his sleeves to his elbows, never missing a beat. "I mean, with all that money, I'm sure you've got people eye-fucking you in church, even if the pastor is staring right at them." He stood to replenish his glass, fisting his hand around the neck of the bottle and filling it nearly to the brim.

He dragged the bottle back with him, plopping right in front of Bruce onto the table. He set the fine wine next to him, then crossed his legs right between Bruce's, draping his free arm over his knee. "Unless you can't get it up?" His eyes dropped right between Bruce's legs to stare at his crotch. Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Is that why you're here? You need someone to show you that you're 'still a man?' Or is it that you _did_ love someone once, but you fucked it up because you're a pretentious ass hole and that's what your kind do?"

This was actually quite fascinating. It was clear that Jason was very well trained in the art of seduction—a touch to guide his eyes here, a movement to draw his focus there—but his words were sharp and biting. Jason took Bruce's glass as soon as he noticed it was empty, pouring dark, red wine from the bottle and smirking before he pushed it back into his hands. Looks like he wouldn't be given a choice in wine anymore. And perhaps the wine was going straight to his head, but he seemed hypersensitive to every touch of Jason's fingers against his own, every brush of his foot again Bruce's leg. He could even feel the heat radiating from Jason's body hitting him in waves with every subtle gesture. It was suddenly becoming very clear that he may have gotten in way over his head.

He didn't know how or when it had happened, but Jason had somehow inched closer and closer until he was leaning so close that he could feel Jason's breath on his lips. The boy was all but sitting in his lap. Bruce took a quiet but deep, steadying breath and Jason's unique fragrance filled him. There was something musky about it, and yet there was definitely a hint of a cologne he'd never smelled before. It was intoxicating.

"Pheromones," Jason cooed, looking down at his lips. "I'm not supposed to tell you that, but I don't think I need it. You're practically drooling all over yourself."

Bruce jerked his face away from him, brows furrowing as he set his jaw. No, this wasn't how Bruce had planned this evening. He needed to leave. Jason smirked, reaching over to caress the strong line of his jaw, pulling Bruce's face back.

"Doesn't your face get tired from smirking so much?" Bruce said, smacking Jason's hand away from his face. The host simply scoffed.

"No," he said in his overconfident, superior tone. Bruce piqued an eyebrow, shooting his line of sight back up to lock with Jason's, frowning deeply in response. It felt like his limbs had turned to cement, heavy and unmoving, even as he willed himself to push the boy away. Jason slowly slid to straddle his lap, reaching up to wrap his arms around Bruce's neck, his wine glass still firmly gripped in his hand. He looked down at him with half-lidded eyes, lips only inches away from his own as he whispered.

"Isn't this what you want?" His breath seemed cool in comparison to how heated his skin had become.

"No," he admitted, voice much weaker than he intended as his throat seized up on him with anticipation. His heart was pounding, deafening in his own ears as Jason shifted in his lap, causing his breath to hitch slightly as he tensed.

"I think you'll find it is…" Jason purred, tangling his fingers into the silky strands of jet black hair at the base of Bruce's neck. Impossibly soft lips connected with his and his eyes involuntarily fluttered shut. There was a shatter as Bruce dropped the wine glass to the floor and lifted his hands to slide up Jason's back to pull him deeper into the kiss. It was as if everything he had been holding back was suddenly released, their mouths clashing together with more force each time they connected again. His mouth was sweet with wine, but Bruce could also taste a faint trace of tobacco as their tongues slid together, nothing like the taste in his dream. Jason sucked on his lower lip, eliciting a soft groan, even as two demanding hands pushed the jacket from his shoulders and jerked Bruce forward by his tie. Tiny explosive bursts of energy sent tingles over his skin in every place they connected as their bodies pressed together. He was in a frenzy. Bruce couldn't stop his hands from wandering beneath the fabric of the vest and raked his nails down the taut muscles of the boy's back. He wanted to tear the shirt from his body just to feel the heated skin beneath his palms and mar its perfection with the dark bruises of bite marks. He had to taste all of him. They finally broke apart, breathing labored, but he didn't miss a beat, finding Jason's pale neck with his lips and teeth, suckling hard at the soft flesh. He was rewarded with a breathless moan that sent a jolt of excitement straight to his groin and before he could stop himself, he lifted his hips to grind his growing arousal into the boy above him.

Jason suddenly jerked away with a hiss, pushing off of Bruce to stand abruptly with his back to him. He straightened his vest, trying to return his appearance to one of order.

"You didn't pay for this," Jason breathed, refusing to look at him.

Bruce was in a stupor. He swallowed hard to clear the lump in his throat as he tried to regain his wits, licking his swollen lips as he stared at Jason's back. He couldn't say anything because the boy was right. He hadn't planned for this much. He'd only wanted and paid for conversation and company, nothing more. How was he to know it would end up like this?

"I'm sorry… I didn't—"

"You will be billed with a new total that accommodates your actions." His tone was icy and devoid of emotion, such a severe contrast to the passion he'd shown only moments prior.

But before Bruce could answer, Jason was gone.

He was left feeling confused and overwhelmed, sighing deeply as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes against the screaming in his head. This was… more than he could have ever imagined.

His heart was pounding, his mind was reeling… he'd never felt so invigorated.

And this was just the beginning.

 **Author's Note:** My heart was pounding just re-reading for editing purposes, good lord. I hope you enjoyed their first session. What's gotten into them? ;P Chapter 3 is already written, so you'll probably get it a week from now if all goes well. If you guys really want, I will post it in a few days. Thank you for reading. 3


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** _Chained_ \- CHAPTER THREE  
 **Word Count:** 4,952  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Bruce/Jason, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, OC's  
 **Rating/Warnings:** R for adult content, themes, and situations. AU. Mostly Jason's POV  
 **Notes/Summary:** (I had to post this before I wouldn't want to anymore. SOB I hope you like it)  
The famed Prince of Gotham, Bruce Wayne, is given a card referring him to a high end Club that is promised to satisfy even his most intimate desires… The more he interacts with his host, the more he realizes he's in over his head.

Smoke curled up in white-blue streams past his vision fixated on the twinkling lights of the cityscape in the distance. Nothing but the sound of traffic and his own breathing reached his ears as he took a slow drag on his cigarette, allowing his mind to tumble and weave through the events of the night. Ah, yes, Bruce Wayne: The Prince of Gotham City. The man was compelling, that much was obvious. He'd never really met anyone quite like him. The rumors of his dashing good-looks and exquisite body were definitely wrong, however.

They didn't do him any justice at all.

And they had neglected to mention how well the man kissed. Jason lifted his hand to his mouth, fingers hesitating above his lips as his tongue darted out to wet them. For a moment, he stared off into space as he recalled the unexpected explosive chemistry that had sparked between them. He'd lost himself a little when he realized he liked the way their bodies fit together, and the way Bruce's arms and hands wrapped around his back to pull him against his chest. And then he'd felt Bruce's strong, hard arousal pressed up against him and suddenly became conscious of the fact that he was incredibly aroused as well. That's where it had to end.

Jason pulled his hand the rest of the way to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the filter of his cigarette and taking a deep, long drag until he felt like his throat was burning. The tension in his shoulders eased with his lengthy exhale, but his thoughts kept wandering back to his client.

Jason was at least confident that his speculations on Bruce's motives and behavior were mostly correct, seeing as most privileged folk were whining, sniveling babies, but there was also something completely different about Bruce as well. Yes, like so many of his clients, he was there for a change of pace—a thrill—and the need to feel alive, but at the same time it was _different_. Like maybe there were different reasons behind his needs that Jason's other clients didn't have. Bruce didn't talk about his money or his next interview or who he was hanging out with. He didn't brag about how many cars he owned or how big his house was… Hell, he didn't talk at all.

And Jason wasn't sure he liked that.

Silence was something that made him extremely uncomfortable, and it bothered him that Bruce seemed to feel the opposite. He was a private man, but everyone knew that private men had secrets. He wasn't exactly humble, what with the expensive, custom-made suit he'd worn to their first session, and yet he _was_ at the same time. And he was nice. God, it was sickening how nice he was.

"Serving _me_ when it's my job to serve you? Are you stupid, or something?" He hissed in anger, throwing his cigarette harder than necessary at the ground before stamping it out and glaring at the crumpled filter like it could give him answers.

But the worst part about all of this was that he seemed to genuinely like Jason. Not the customer-service, 'this-is-my-work' Jason, but the _real_ Jason; The one that was rude and insulting and brash and angry at the world. The one that was independent and cocky.

…The one that usually drove everyone away.

"Tsk. You _are_ stupid." He kicked at the smashed filter on the ground, shoving his hands into his pockets and giving his city one lingering look before he showed himself inside. He trotted down the layers of steps and into the hallway towards his dressing room. He didn't know what to do with himself for the next hour. It had originally been scheduled for Bruce, but when Jason had stormed off under the pretense of company policy, he hadn't exactly thought about the consequences. Whoops.

Alright, so what? The worst that could happen would be Bruce getting a refund of his money, Jason would get an earful from James, and then his client would just schedule for their second session.

"…That idiot would pay for the extra hour anyways, wouldn't he?" Jason mulled in annoyance, pulling his hands out of his pockets to run them through his hair. Stupid man.

"Jason?"

Oh, shit.

He gracefully turned on his heel, putting on a bored expression and fixed his gaze onto his employer.

"What?"

James was checking his watch, looking rather distressed. "What's going on?" His tone turned angry. "You're scheduled with Mr. Wayne for another hour."

"He got bored of me or something. He dismissed me."

James stared at him for a long moment, trying to decipher if this information was true. Jason could see the panic flickering beneath his eyes, and rolled his own in response, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to one side.

"Well what did he say," he demanded, stepping closer to Jason to stare down the bridge of his nose at him as if his life depended on the answer.

"Nothing. I don't know if you've noticed, but the guy doesn't say much at all, James. He just dismissed me."

James couldn't refute that. Even with the induction into the company, Bruce had hardly said anything, so Jason's story was entirely plausible. If that was the case, then the issue was either with Jason's service or the establishment itself. James chewed on his lip as he ran through the possibilities in his mind, pacing the corridor as Jason stared at him without amusement. If Jason had ruined this, he would have his head for it.

"I'm going to go now."

He shot a glare at Jason, narrowing his eyes dangerously. Yet, he realized there was nothing to be done at the moment until he could speak to Bruce on the phone, so he sighed and gave up. He waved a heavily ringed hand at Jason, just as his phone began to buzz in his pocket and his fist automatically went for his breast pocket, completely trained, to idly search for it. Flipping the phone open, he pressed the slim metal to his ear with another sigh of irritation and began to walk away from Jason.

"What is it?" Jason heard him snap. He reached out for the cool, soothing handle of his dressing room door and turned the knob to go inside. It was pitch black until he flicked on a light, then fished his carton of cigarettes out of his pocket and threw them on the dresser that was next to the door.

"Jason!"

Oh god, what could it be now? He pulled the door back open, before it had even finished closing, and swung it wide to hiss at his boss.

" _What,_ " he asked through clenched teeth, but James said nothing, instead grabbing his wrist and pulling him out of the room and down the brightly lit hall. He wrenched his wrist from the iron grip, but continued walking briskly as he dusted off his vest irritably. What had he done wrong now?

"Bruce is waiting."

What?

To say that Jason was surprised was an understatement. That idiot hadn't left? Now he was done for. His whole lie would be uncovered and instead of getting a paycheck, he'd be getting his boss screaming in his face, _and_ he had to see that stupid rich guy again. He hoped to god Bruce booked him again simply so he could enjoy torturing him until he cried like a child.

They pushed through the doorway out into the lobby entrance just outside the Liquid Lounge where Bruce was indeed waiting for them. Jason hung back, gritting his teeth together in an attempt to keep himself from insulting the man anymore than he already had that night. No, he could save that for next time…

Bruce looked rather surprised as well when he turned to see both James and Jason, and he gave Jason a sidelong look of question, even as the boy refused to meet his gaze. Jason simply crossed his arms and waited.

"Mr. Wayne," James started apologetically. "I just heard about what happened; I don't understand. Was there something wrong?"

Here we go, Jason thought, wetting his lips as he snuck at peak at Bruce. He looked angry. His brows were furrowed, yet he was trying to keep his expression carefully controlled as he addressed the owner. This was not good.

"Nothing at all was wrong…" The shock jolted Jason from his thoughts and he looked up to Bruce's eyes, guarding himself, but searching for an answer. "Jason was exquisite," Bruce said knowingly, and just the way the man said his name made his skin crawl. Whether it was good or bad, even he was uncertain, but something right then had become incredibly clear: The Bruce he'd met tonight was not the one in front of him now. Was it possible that the billionaire was like Jason in the way they hid their true selves? And not only that, but both of them had shown each other a piece of themselves they never showed the world.. "Something extremely important came up, and I have some business to attend. However," Bruce pulled something from his arm and dangled it in front of James. He narrowed his eyes at the object, immediately recognizing it. "Jason left his jacket, so I thought I'd return it."

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Jason glared and snatched his coat from Bruce before his boss could taint it with his stink, then draped it over his arm.

"I see."

"I apologize for the inconvenience. I will pay for the full two hours."

Jason hated when he was right. He didn't know what was going through Bruce's mind, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to get close enough to him to find out, but something told him he wouldn't have a choice.

Jason didn't have to wait long to hear back from Bruce. He'd answered the call calmly, careful to keep his tone neutral when scheduling the appointment. If their first session had ended so… _intensely_ , then he had no idea what to expect for their second one. Just the sound of Bruce's voice, rare as it was, sent a ripple down his spine that had caused him to clear his throat and sit up straighter in his seat.

Now, he was lounging in his dressing room, feet propped up on the table as he looked at himself in the mirror with lazy eyes and an unlit cigarette in hand. He hadn't even taken the time to tuck in his shirt or pick out something nice. Why should he? He was only meeting Bruce Wayne, and the sooner that idiot left him alone, the better. If he arrived unkempt, smelling like smoke and other clients, he was sure that the billionaire would grow tired of him and move on to something else. Sure, his boss would probably be furious to know that he was purposefully trying to get rid of "Mr. Wayne," but there was something about that man that unsettled him in a very unfamiliar way.

He didn't like it one bit.

He sighed, looking at the clock on the wall. Time was passing so slowly. There was still twenty minutes left before his appointment, and he was bored out of his mind.

"Tsk," he flicked the cigarette at the mirror, hitting his reflection right in the face. These damned lights were making him look better than he wanted to right now. Not that he could look ugly in any light, he thought with a smirk. The smirk slowly faded as he stared at himself, searching his face, his hair, his clothing. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair slowly, then blinked at himself as he suddenly got an idea. He reached up with the rest of his fingers and went wild, pulling and rubbing his head until his hair was completely out of control. Hey, why not wrinkle his clothes too? He pulled his jacket off, throwing it at the wall and letting it crumple in a heap at the floor, as well as rolling his pants up, removing his button down shirt and sitting on it in his chair. Heat would help set the wrinkles, he thought proudly.

Alright, now what?

He rocked back in his chair a bit, looking around, drumming his fingers on the arms of his seat and pursing his lips.

…It was far too quiet in here.

Maybe he should nap or something. He snatched his phone off the desk, scrolling through his text messages, not really sure what he was looking for. Finding nothing of interest, he went to his call log instead, but that ended up not being a very good idea. He stopped on one name, thumb hesitating on the scroll button far too long for his liking. Has his foot been wiggling like that the whole time? Why did he have so much energy? Tossing his work phone back onto the table, he sighed yet again and rested his chin on his palm, twisting around to look at the floor, letting his gaze wander lazily up the wall, following the line of white trim up around the door and… over to the clock.

Five minutes? His heart rate skyrocketed and he practically jumped out of his chair, floundering for his wrinkled shirt and pulling it on quickly. While urgently trying to button himself up, he shook his leg out, attempting to roll down his pant leg with gravity while his hands were busy. It worked… mostly.

"Damn it," he hissed, nearly tripping as he tried to do the other. He looked at himself in the mirror and stopped dead.

Bruce was coming. He was probably already here.

And he was a mess. In a sudden burst, he was palming at his hair, cursing and trying to bring his appearance back to something decent. Damn it, what the hell had he been thinking!?

"Stupid, stupid!" He ran his hands down his shirt and legs, making a feeble effort to smooth out the wrinkles and creases. He slipped on his jacket angrily, making to grab for his keys when his eye caught something.

A tie. Yes, ties made people look dashing. Dashing things would make him look _nicer_. Without further thought, he slipped the striped thing around his neck, opening a drawer and fumbling through it. More things to help him look good…Tie clip, tie clip, where the hell had he put that thing? Ooh, cufflinks! He grabbed those as well, quickly slipping the gold and diamond studded metal into their slots, and finally, the clip onto the fabric of his tie. He gave himself a once over.

He looked dreadful.

Time?

Now, he was late.

"Fuck." He bolted out the door, keys in hand and made a beeline for the lobby. Before he stepped through the entrance, he stopped, taking a breath as he plastered his smirk on his face and let himself step back into his own confidence and swag. No fake service, no nice words… Time to really let loose. With that, he sauntered through the door and made his way towards the booth where his client would be waiting.

His eyes were met with… well, something he wasn't quite expecting. For starters, he wasn't fond of a woman's ass in his face as she bent over to 'straighten' his client's tie, no doubt flashing him the deep 'V' of her cleavage. How very subtle of her. She'd even gone out of her way to fix him a drink… Well, it wasn't hard to figure out who this was. He'd seen those hips before, that gaudy dress, and that head of blonde hair. Bruce's initial choice in companions…. He narrowed his eyes.

"I see you're trying to steal clients, now," he smiled coyly as the blonde host turned to him, looking rather pleased with herself. "No doubt because your boobs are perceptibly fake and you've put on quite a bit of weight. I mean look at those saddlebags," he pushed forward, gesturing to her thighs casually. It was all lies of course. She was gorgeous, but words were an incredibly powerful tool when used strategically. "It's no wonder your numbers are dropping." He cut her off with a fake gasp as she tried to speak, squinting at her face. "And my god, you look like a crypt keeper with all those wrinkles. What a shame. I guess everyone has an expiration date." She stared at him in complete shock as everything sunk in before the rage hit.

Infuriated, she swung her hand out to slap him, but he caught her wrist in an iron grip and turned her around, his back to Bruce. He glared maliciously down at her, squeezing her wrist until a look of pain crossed her face, inclining his face forward to quietly hiss against her ear.

"If I _ever_ see you around Bruce again, I'll kill you."

She froze, not even breathing, eyes wide as she stared at Jason's dangerous, hateful eyes swirling with a promise that told her he wasn't kidding. He shoved her back by the wrist and gave her a pleasant wave, jolting her out of her stupor. She fled quickly as soon as she was able to move her feet, and he watched until her form disappeared. With that, he twirled around and addressed his client.

Oh yes, no wonder the girl was hanging all over him. He was absolutely breathtaking. A dust colored suit, not quite white, but not quite grey, no doubt custom and imported from some other country, hugged him in all the right places. The man looked like a king lounging there, sipping his drink indifferently, as if the little event that just transpired was something he was entirely used to. Or perhaps he just didn't care. Jason set his jaw, strolling over nonchalantly and snatching the drink out of his hand.

"Scotch, very old, very nice," he observed, and dumped it right into a potted plant, then moved to the cabinets and mini fridge to fix him something else.

Bruce watched Jason's back, taking in each muscular movement underneath his clothing as he started making him a new drink. Perhaps Jason didn't realize that he wasn't interested in any other host, not even a little. The blonde had caught him off guard, sure, and though he'd taken her kindness it only made him want Jason that much more. He still hadn't even said a word to her when Jason had arrived, looking like a beautiful disaster in his wrinkled clothes and haphazard appearance, but just like that he'd caught Bruce's gaze and he couldn't tear it away. The boy looked like he'd rolled out of bed and threw on yesterday's clothes… Bruce halted his thought process, not particularly enjoying where it was headed, and reversed it a bit back to the quarreling hosts.

The little display he'd seen was perplexing. He hadn't realized that hosts had problems with clients being taken, nor had he foreseen the competitive nature of their numbers. But what had struck the billionaire the most was when Jason turned his back and whispered something to blonde he couldn't quite make out. The way his posture changed, became fluid and powerful in single seconds… it was like glimpsing something he wasn't supposed to. No doubt he'd seen a side of Jason that was part of the reason why his return rate was so high. The look on the woman's face had told him enough.

His host finally returned, setting a glass on the table in front of him and practically sat in his lap. Bruce almost flinched, not expecting the boy to sit so close. To distract himself, he lifted the fresh liquor to his lips, concentrating on the sound of the ice clinking against the delicate crystal sides of the cup, the coldness of the fluid as it hit his tongue.

It was… exactly the same. Jason had poured him another glass of the same, very expensive scotch. He almost laughed, hiding his smile behind another sip and side-eyed the host next to him. The boy was practically ignoring him, sitting back lazily, one leg crossed over the other with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He drank straight from it, shooting Bruce a haughty smirk that drove a pang of excitement right through his gut before returning his attention forward.

"Tell me something," Bruce finally said. There was an issue on his mind that had been plaguing him since the last time they'd met. For each waking moment he spent away from his host, his mind contemplated everything he didn't know about him. His mind was constantly plagued by the mystery of the boy next to him. One issue kept returning… He wasn't even sure if he had the courage to ask, but he had noticed the glint of the golden tie clip and sparkling cufflinks. "Are patrons allowed to buy their hosts gifts?"

"I'm flattered, _Brucie_." Jason said flatly, turning in towards him so their knees brushed, and their faces inched much closer than Bruce needed them to be at the moment. He had to stay focused. Jason had this very rare talent of fogging up his mind and making things unclear to him, turned off his logic and awakened something much more primitive. His eyes drifted down to those lips… if he just leaned, he could taste them again… No, Bruce! Concentrate. "Are you going to buy me flowers? Concert tickets? Designer clothing?" Jason continued. "How about a new car? Or an apartment?"

His stomach sank a little. His eyes flashed back to the clip and cuffs, his thoughts tumbling and dissecting every piece of information given to him. Jason's tone was sarcastic and disrespectful, and it told him exactly what he needed to know: Jason had all of these offers from other clients, and probably more, but whether he had accepted them was a different story.

Jason didn't miss the lingering looks here and there, but he didn't have to follow his gaze to know what he was looking at. Despite Bruce's best efforts, he knew exactly what was rolling through the man's head. After all, this wasn't the first time he'd seen jealousy amongst his customers.

So, why was he enjoying it this time?

"These are from some of my clients," He said with a snicker, hardly even making a gesture at the items in question. He really wanted to drive it into him and see the jealousy play over his face. But, the thought of Bruce buying him something sort of bothered him. He didn't want him to be like all of this other clients. "Pathetic, isn't it? They think they can buy my affections, as if I'll run away with them. Idiots, the lot of them."

The notion didn't seem to bother him. Bruce's face was unreadable, actually. Was this guy even listening to him?

"Why _do_ you work here?"

The question was so abrupt that Jason's hand faltered for a moment as he brought the bottle of alcohol back up towards his lips. He shot the man an annoyed look.

"I've got bills to pay just like everyone else."

"They must be pretty extensive." He blinked. Jason already had a bad feeling about this conversation. In fact, he didn't like it one bit. He'd had nosy clients before, but the knowing manner in which those words were spoken sent a red flag up in his mind that made him very uncomfortable. He shifted on the cushion, setting his bottle on the table and turned completely to rest his elbow on Bruce's muscular shoulder, peering at his face through half-lidded eyes and a lazy, seductive smirk to distract him. Unable to resist the temptation, he lifted his fingers to feel the black, silken strands of hair by his ear. Distraction usually worked.

"I like having the extra cash."

Bruce seemed to ignore him and continued on, much to his dismay. "Either you've got a gambling problem, or it's something family related. A sibling or parent is in the hospital perhaps… And if that's the case, it must be something terminal or recurring since you pay so much money to keep them alive. You're smart, you like to take risks but you live a moderate life, don't care for flashing your money around, so it's not a gambling problem."

For the first time he could remember, Jason was completely dumbfounded. Initially, he could hardly get a word out of the man and now he wouldn't shut up? They'd only had one session together and the man had deduced exactly why he was here based on tiny snippets of information he'd mentioned only briefly? Impressive. He'd never met anyone so intelligent. Or so annoying.

"Do you get off trying to dissect people's lives?" He pulled away from him, yanking his bottle off the table again. "You must really be bored."

"It's a hobby."

"Sounds more like stalking."

Bruce looked a bit taken aback for the smallest moment of time before he let his eyes drop to the ice cubes in his drink. The small show of emotions sent a jolt of excitement through Jason's stomach, eliciting a smug smirk that spread widely across his face. It was strange really, how he'd begun to realize just how thrilling it was to catch those shimmers of real emotion on Bruce's face when no one else had the privilege of seeing him so vulnerable.

He needed to see more of it.

He wanted to say and do things to Bruce that no one had ever dreamed, just to catch that glimpse of who he really was beneath the hard exterior he'd built up after so many years. Unknowingly, he licked his lips as his eyes shifted to Bruce's chiseled jaw. Just the thought that he could make the famed Prince of Gotham _feel_ … He swallowed, taking a deep drink from his bottle and then clunked it down onto the table. Alright, so maybe Bruce wasn't the only one feeling things… it was just the excitement of the game, right? Just another notch on his belt. This could be a nice change in pace for Jason as well, and the more he tried to drive the other man away, the more he seemed to want Jason.

…and that stirred him more than he cared to admit to himself.

He wanted Bruce. He wanted him more than he had ever wanted anything. He liked the way he felt around him, the way he riled him up, the way he made him lose control, their explosive chemistry, and how he could simply be himself. Bruce enjoyed the challenge of his rebellious personality, the fire, and the ice.

"Jason…"

Just the sound of his voice made him sit up straighter, just like when he was on the phone with him, like it was already some sort of reflex. He barely needed to turn his face to stare down his client. Something strange passed between them, like some form of silent communication: he could see the need in his eyes that he wasn't sure even Bruce realized was there, but he was sure it was reflecting in his own eyes as well, as much as he hated it. The billionaire didn't even know what he wanted, but he knew it was something Jason could give him. The sheer magnetism between them was alarming, the attraction was something the host was not used to experiencing…They were leaning into each other and Jason could do nothing to stop it. He willed his body to move away, to shoot the man down and make him leave, to run, but his body did the exact opposite. He could already taste the breath on his lips.

Bruce kissed him deeply with a passion that almost scared him, and his body responded immediately. He took in a deep breath, pressing into him and moving to slide possessive arms around his client's shoulders. His head swam, drunk on his lips more than any wine had ever made him feel. His cool, slick tongue pushed past Jason's lips and he could taste the alcohol, smell expensive cologne and the faint trace of leather, felt the fine fabric beneath his wandering hands.

This wasn't what he'd planned for the evening.

They moved together, Bruce lifting him and suddenly he was on his back, grunting with the force of being pushed into the cushions of the wide couch. He closed his eyes as Bruce's lips found his neck, sucking on the soft skin beneath his ear, sending a shiver through the boy, back arching up sharply to push their chests together. Bruce's hands were all over him, burning him, stealing his breath away with every brush of those calloused fingers beneath his wrinkled shirt, buttons popping. It was like Bruce had suddenly turned into an animal, tasting him and marking him in some feral display of power that made him moan deeply.

Shit.

What was he doing? Why was he letting this happen?

And when had he lost control?

Cold air hit his bared chest, his shirt falling around his shoulders, hot lips falling to his collar bone. His fingers slipped into Bruce's hair, grabbing onto the locks as if they could ground him to the earth, while his other hand slid down Bruce's chest and dipped below the hem of his pants. The man growled in his ear as Jason's fingers wrapped around his hardening erection, and Jason smirked, pushing his own arousal against the man's hard thigh.

He looked up at Bruce's face, his pleasured expression sending a deep wave of satisfaction through him that he couldn't remember ever feeling before. He had him right where he wanted him.

If he couldn't send him away, he'd have to make it so he could never leave.

 **Author's Note:** Things are spiraling out of control for them, it seems. I hope you enjoyed this installment, and please take the time to review and let me know how you feel. Thank you to tealgeezus on tumblr for being my original inspiration for this fic, and thank you for those of you who continue to support me!


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